Utilitarianism
by Tsume Yuki
Summary: For the record, wishing to be in the Harry Potter world is not a good idea. Or rather, wishing to do so without being specific is not a good idea. So, not only have I landed quite a way from where I wanted to be -the Marauder era with yummy Sirius Black for you information- but I've ended up the daughter of the second darkest wizard of all time. Bloody excellent. Eventually TomxOC
1. Prologue

**Utilitarianism  
**_For the Greater Good_

**Prologue  
1****st**** January 1938**

* * *

For the record, wishing to be in the Harry Potter world is not a good idea. Or rather, wishing to become part of the series without being specific is not a good idea. You could end up anywhere; back in the Founders era near 'the start', or with the new generation of Potter children nearer 'the end'. Either way, where you end up, it's not where you're expecting. If you even get there at all.  
Some unlucky folk may end up in the fifteen hundreds, with no interaction with canon characters at all. Though I'm still unsure if this would have been a better option -more boring, but perhaps safer- it was quite obviously, not where I ended up.

.

Instead, I woke up with a worn burlap sack thrown over my head, a much younger and certainly much more bruised head. My hands, small and without a doubt easier to break than the seventeen year old pair I'd previously owned, were tied up behind my back with thick, itchy rope. There was a warm, clammy hand upon one of my shoulders that had been directing my foot-steps before I was thrown to the floor as the seventeen year old consciousness from my, well, I suppose past life, hit this new body.

"Get up," the man hissed, and it took me a moment to realize what I was hearing was most certainly not English in anyway, but perhaps Norwegian if I had to guess. And that I could understand it.

Of course, I was splendidly disorientated, hopelessly lost, confused and most of all scared. So I bit my tongue hard, forcing myself to remain quiet and assess the situation at hand. I was wearing a dress, something made of thick material that brushed against my stocking clad legs with every step. Hair that was clearly quite a bit longer than the dead straight bob I'd once had was brushing against my neck and resting between my shoulder blades, and I dared not to think of it too much.

This, evidently, was not my body, if the childish proportions were anything to go by. I had to walk much quicker than usual to keep up with my kidnapper's place, and my head spun with the very idea that I'd somehow landed myself in such a horrible situation.

.

Wherever the owner of the beefy hand was leading me, we had clearly arrived, because light filled the other side of the potato sack currently covering my eyes.

"What is this?" A thick, accented voice asked in English and I stained my ears, attempting to figure out where this voice was coming from. There was a quick motion by my left side considering the displacement of air by my arm and suddenly the sack was gone, replaced by startlingly cold blue eyes that scrutinized my face.

He was middle-aged, looking perhaps to be in his late thirties. Good looking, the kind of man that aged well and was often spotted pushing some miracle cream which claimed to produce effects that really, only genetics could create. Though, there was an air of power around him that suggested he was older than he appeared, and stronger. A lot stronger than what I could probably comprehend.

"She wouldn't come quietly sir," beef hand replied, sausage fingers curling tighter into my shoulder and I bit my lip to not wince, "suddenly went quiet walking down here, like all the fight had left her or something."  
_Or maybe another person took over, because that's what seems to have happened_.

Scowling, I tried to adjust my throbbing wrists into a more comfortable position, levelling my gaze till it met the middle aged man before me. His hair was light, a honeyed blond that in no way appeared warm. In fact, it fell in wispy strands that came into a loose curl at their ends, almost frozen in place. Everything about him was cold.

"Mmm you're not scared easily are you?" The man leaned down and I realized I was quite possibly not even a teenager in this body yet, because he was certainly quite a bit taller than what I was. "As expected of my daughter."

.

Stumbling slightly over his words, I missed when I was ordered to be untied, only noticing when the ropes slid past my fingertips towards the ground. I looked down at myself, taking in the thick, furred hunting boots and the shabby dress. All the memories I had of this body, which passed in a hazy blur, didn't show this man before me to be my father. In fact, there was no real parent sticking out. Just an orphanage, and recently, living on the outskirts of a city my mind identified as Oslo.

"Daughter?" I repeated in a slow motion, wrapping the words around my tongue as if unsure of their taste. Neither bitter of sweet.  
I made sure to take a step towards this body's father, a step away from beefy hands and putting myself in a better, defendable position.

"Clara Nilsen, named after your mother Clarissa Nilsen. Born February 14th 1927 in Oslo Norway. Supposedly orphan from birth. What your dearest pure-blood mother failed to tell or inform your orphanage, was that your father was very much alive and very much unaware of your existence." Running a hand through the blond hair atop his head, this body's father -my father?- turned back to me and smiled. "Gellert Grindelwald, pure-blood wizard, owner of the elder wand, and your father."

So, not only have I landed quite a way from where I wanted to be -the Marauder era with yummy Sirius Black for you information- but I've ended up the daughter of the darkest wizard of his time.

Bloody excellent.

* * *

**So, I really wanted to try a self insert in Harry Potter land -please don't kill me- and this idea has been running around in my head for a very long while now. I hope you'll not be too harsh -please no flames, I've got enough burns on my arms from cooking attempts, I don't need anymore- if you review.**

**Thanks for reading, the real chapters will be a lot longer, promise. **

**Tsume  
xxx**


	2. Part 1-1

**Utilitarianism  
**_For the Greater Good_

**Part 1.1  
1****st****August 1938**

* * *

It's been little over half a year since I'd ended up crash landing into some poor ten year old body -which I'm half certain was suppose to freeze to death before Grindelwald's minions found her- and found out not only was I in 1930's wizarding Europe, but that I was in 1930's wizarding Europe as the daughter of the dark lord. How marvellous was that for a starting point in attempting to get to Hogwarts?

Through these past seven months, several things of importance had happened.  
In chronological order, the first thing that'd come about was a wand. My very own wand, supplied by a very nervous Gregorovitch as my father stood over my shoulder and nodded in approval. Eleven inches, hawthorn dragon heart-string core, springy.  
The second thing that'd happened was that I'd come to terms with was the clear way that Grindelwald favoured me above anyone else in the vicinity. It'd only increased when I'd showed a brilliance for wand work.  
The third thing had been that I was now able to address Grindelwald as 'father' allowed without flinching, which came around March time. Luckily, he'd just passed it off before that I'd been suspicious and paranoid, the latter of which I most certainly was. The former; well, what use would the leader of an army have for a ten, now eleven, year old girl? Aside from spy work he wouldn't risk me for, that was.

.

Perhaps though, the thing that came before all of this was the shock when I first got a look in the mirror at my new appearance. It was a drastic change to what I'd once been, which was tanned, brown haired and brown eyed with a soft featured face made for looking like the girl next door. Not quite cute, not ugly, just a plain pretty.  
And now that appearance was no more.

Instead, I now had the same wispy blonde hair as my father, the same icy blue eyes and same sharp angled features. A crisp and somewhat beautiful face. I was a spitting image, if somewhat girlier version, of the wizarding mass murderer. Which if I ever got to Hogwarts, would completely cripple my chances of flying under Dumbledore's radar.

I couldn't get more attention if I rode in on a dragon.

Though this face was better than the one I had once owned, it came with even more problems. I'd kill to have my old face back, which of course was so typical. Wish to go elsewhere, wish goes wrong on so many levels.  
You'd think I'd have paid attention what with all the kids programs featuring tricky little genies and fairies.

.

"Clara?"

Squeezing my eyes shut and counting back from ten, I opened them again and turned to look at Edward. Yes, it was a nice enough name, but it also identified the owner of the meaty hands that'd led me here before, when I'd first met my father in his uncharted, unmapped fortress. So really, all the love I'd once held for the name had long since disappeared.

That, and the fact he believed himself closer to Grindelwald just because he'd brought me to my father was rubbing me the wrong way. Why would he want to be closer to this mass murderer? If it weren't for him, now I'd be in Oslo in this body, waiting to get invited to Durmstrang for my magical education. I'd have been significantly better off.

That was, until the school recognised me for who I was-or rather, who my father was- and kicked me out. On second thoughts, maybe this was slightly better, if for the fact I had a better chance at getting to Hogwarts.  
Now it was just about how to approach Grindelwald and show him it was in his best options to send me to spy on his old friend.

Well, actually, it'd be to get me there so I can ask for protection in exchange for information.

"Yes Edward?"

"Your father wishes for your presence."

I took a quick look at the clock, noting that it was eight in the morning, spot on. Of course, it was Monday, Grindelwald always saw me every Monday, start of a new week and all that. Liked to check in on the tutors he'd assigned me to see if I was making satisfactory progress. He seemed to believe that because he'd been brilliant as a child, that I was to be to.

Equally brilliant that was.

And whilst I had a natural aptitude for spell-work, that didn't mean I was anywhere near the level of natural genius that he was. Which meant in order to stay in the good-graces, I was working at all times to improve. I was in a precarious position.

If I started slipping up in my studies, I didn't want to think about how Grindelwald would react. Any normal father would keep encouraging me to work, but Grindelwald was anything but normal. I didn't want to tempt it, and while he'd been nothing but good to me so far, I wasn't going to risk it.  
I was rather fond of living so far, and spell-work was cool, even if this dull environment wasn't.

So adjusting the collar of the pretty button up shirt I'd been gifted, I set out with Edward.

* * *

**1st September 1938**

"Are you positive that you can handle this?"

Looking up and Grindelwald, I nodded slowly, turning my to attention back to the fire-place. Gabrielle, one of my father's higher-ups that no one had seen out in public yet, was stood waiting there and I chewed my lip.

Instead of having to bring up my magical schooling, it had actually been Grindelwald that'd put forwards the idea that I should go and study at Hogwarts and keep him 'updated' as to its current situation. A thought that quite obviously terrified me, because there had to be some reason or another as to why he wanted this, and was I going to end up ruining the canon time-line by just being here?

On the other hand, I was beyond excited to be heading off there, because hey, it's Hogwarts. But still, terrifying. I could only hope Dumbledore would be able to sort me out. With my looks, there would be no way to go unnoticed forever, no way to hide them for an extended period of time, it was best to just go in being honest from the start.

"I'm your daughter aren't I?" I responded, because I certainly wasn't agreeing and I was without a doubt playing on the man's ego. He couldn't really say I wasn't up to it without doubting his own ability to create a brilliant child. As weird as it seemed, the play worked because he nodded.

"I expect a letter every month. Or a message. You know the panic code."  
God, didn't I know the panic code. It'd been drilled into me so much I'd never forget it.

Checking the clock on the wall, I smiled slightly because it was finally time for me to go and get out of this prison. Gabrielle, whom was one of the three people allowed to apperate within Grindelwald's wards, stepped forwards and took a hold of my hand as my free hand went down to grasp at my trunk. Grindelwald sent me a proud smile which I shakily returned before the world spun, twisted and then pressed up against me on all sides in a surprisingly painful manner.

And just as soon as the sensation was there, it was gone.

As was my guide.

.

It was just me, stood in 1930's London looking nervously around in front of the train-station. On my own.

Families were walking by and giving me weary, odd looks and I reached into my pocket, pulling out my oversized hat. Stuffing as much of my hair as I could beneath it's wide brim, I took a quick look in a nearby puddle and was pleased to note you didn't think Grindelwald the second you looked at me. You had to actually pay attention to the face beneath the hat to really get terrified, so that was a step in the right direction surely.

Grasping at the handle of my trunk which'd been charmed to weigh next to nothing, I took off towards the entrance, ignoring the suspicious looks I was getting. There were one or two other students, obviously muggle born, looking around the station for the platform. Though they were here with their parents.

I bit my tongue, trying not to laugh at the reaction that'd come should my parent had escorted me to the school drop-off. Mass panic might just about cover it, though it might not be strong enough a term.

Shrugging my shoulders, I made my way forwards, passing right through the brick wall without hesitation, briefly amused at the gasp from a lost muggle-born behind me. If it weren't for the huge amount of magic Grindelwald had been showing me the past few months, I might have had the same reaction.

Instead, I stopped and took a good look at the faces around the platform. A few of them I recognised from my father's list of potential English allies, specifically the Malfoy and Blacks of the current adult generation. A girl was saying good-bye to the Black in question, who could be no one other than the future Sirius's mother. The haunting good looks were a give away. She seemed to see me staring and her face twisted upwards in a disgusted snarl.

"Filthy mud-blood," she hissed, striding right past me and I glared at her back. Oh, if only she knew, she'd be put in her place so fast.

Shaking my head and scowling, I made my way over to the train where Walburga was getting on, making a big show of lifting my trunk up effortlessly as she got hers caught on the step. I glided past her, making sure to ignore the stinging barbs she spat out after me.

.

The Hogwarts express had a nice clean feel to it, fresh even though it was 1930's still. It was the closest to my own time-period I'd felt in ages, and I just wanted to curl up on the carpeted floor and remain there forever. Which said something about the age of the trains I'd rode back in the future. But, seeing as there was masses of students boarding, I didn't allow myself to crumple.

Instead, I walked to the end of the corridor, where three Slytherin students were leaving a compartment, holding up a book and wand in a victorious manner. His two friends went on ahead whilst the blond -probably a Malfoy- remained behind to taunt his victim.

"I mean, the wand's new, so I suppose you can have that back," he threw the object in question back inside the cabin, but judging by the lack of a scramble for the object, I instantly assumed the person had been bound in some way or another. Probably a weak stunning jinx. "But a second hand book? Yeah, if you can't have a first hand copy, you don't want one."  
Then he opened the window in the corridor to throw it away.

.

My wand was in my hand instantly, '_Levicorpus_' on my lips and then the Malfoy was in the air, robes pooling around his head and flailing about.  
I watched unimpressed for a second as other students stopped to gape at the boys pasty white legs and his matching undergarments. I felt bad for stealing Snape's spell before he'd even invented it, but I pushed it away and promised not to teach anyone else it.  
Alternatively, I strode forwards, snatching up the book and the teens own wand he'd had to have dropped in shock before lifting up the robes enough to see the Malfoy's red face. I grinned slightly before throwing his wand down the corridor.

"Fetch," I murmured dryly before letting the robes form a curtain around his face again, wand still trained on his form and book in my other hand. I backed up into the compartment he'd come out of before bowing and releasing the spell. Malfoy landed with a thump and I slide the door closed, turning to look at the owner of the book.  
Second hand robes were already covering his body, no colour to them. So he was a firstie, like me.

"This your book?" I asked, holding up the slightly tattered copy of '_The Standard Book of Spells_'.

"Yes," the boy murmured, holding his hand out for the book. I handed it over, grimacing when I got no thank you in return.

So instead of standing around awkwardly, I poked my head back out into the corridor to see Malfoy had left. I summoned my trunk to me and then stuck it on the shelf beside the one the ungrateful boy owned. I pulled out a chocolate frog, dropping into the seat opposite him and grinning as I bit into the sweet.

"So, my name's Clara, nice to meet you."  
Ungrateful boy looked up and frowned slightly.

"No last name?" He finally murmured, pausing in his reading of the book I'd recovered for him.

"I don't wanna say really."

"So you're from the muggle world then?" He asked and I noticed how awkwardly he said the word muggle, like he wasn't quite accustomed to it.

"Are you asking me if I'm muggle-born? Because the answer is no, I'm pure-blood I'm afraid. Grew up with muggles though. Mummy dearest died and never thought to tell daddy he had a daughter. He found me this year."

Now I definitely had the boys attention.  
He'd even closed the book, dark grey eyes sparkling with interest.

"What's he like, your pure-blood dad?"  
_Oh you know, your everyday run of the mill dad. Murders thousands when he's bored you know?_

"He's alright. It's strange getting to know him now." Like how he'd check every plate of food he's served for poison. The usual paranoia levels of course.

"Why are you so interested?"  
The boy went quiet, turning to his book and I grimaced. Yeah, great way to call him there. You're gonna make so many friends aren't you? God I'm such an idiot.

.

The train jerked slightly, starting to move and then I heard his quiet voice.

"My name's Tom Riddle."

_Oh._

* * *

**Yeah, Part 1. I hope you like this one.**

**I'm making a Collection of SI stories, I have another one up called '_Don't Mind All My Friends_' and they'll be a third called '_Son of a Basilisk_' both of which go off the idea of a wish to enter the world going wrong like this one. Just in different time periods. One's a Marauder's era, and the latter will be a founders era one. So yeah, if you like this one, check those out? I don't know, just some shameless self advertisement here. **

**Thanks for reading, the real chapters will be a lot longer, promise. **

**Tsume  
xxx**


	3. Part 1-2

**Utilitarianism  
**_For the Greater Good_

**Part 1.2  
1****st****September 1938**

* * *

That explained his sudden interest in my finding my father. Idiot girl, don't go telling your back-story to everyone. Because hell, crap like this happens. Now you're gonna be treading thin ice now, and what will happen when he finds out about his muggle father? You fool, you just go and put thoughts in the boy's head. Way to go. You weren't read for this mission at all. But it's not like you can run crying home to daddy now is it?  
All this raced through my head in the space of a second, while on the outside I smiled and held out my and for us to introduce ourselves in a 'proper' fashion.

"Clara." Surprisingly enough, he put his hand in mine and offered a steady, strong handshake.

"Tom. Why don't you have a fancier name if you're pure-blood?" Of course that's the first thing he asks.

I understand the insecurity of course, don't get me wrong. There's loads of Tom's out there, he's just one of thousands. I remember back at school, before I'd made the mistake of wanting to come here, when two other girls in my year had shared my name. I'd been known as the intelligent one, the one that could draw and that always got the best grades and effort levels in class.

"I'm named after my mother Clarissa. But I guess I deal with it because I'm going to be the Clara everyone thinks of when they hear that name. I'll be the first face that pops into your mind." Wiggling my fingers in Tom's direction as I did so, I watched in amusement as his brow furrowed, appearing to be deep in thought. And then he turned back to the book, as if deciding that conversation with me wasn't worth his precious reading time.  
Well, that's pleasant.

Scowling, I leapt up onto the seat and began rummaging through my over-head trunk until I found my own book, written in Norwegian. I could feel Tom's eyes on the book, clearly unable to tell the title name and I hid my smile behind the thick paper back as I cracked it open to read.  
That was one exceedingly cool thing to come out of my new body; I was already hard-wired to read, speak and understand Norwegian. Even if my English was now accented, it didn't make it any less cool.  
I'd never been able to speak another language before, so this was an amazing change.

.

We sat in silence and read for a while, the only breaks being when Tom took another look at my book as if to determine what it's topic was, or when I snatched up some more candy from my luggage. It was only my third trip upwards for candy that I decided to just dump it all on the seat and offer Tom some. Maybe befriending the dangerous psycho was the way forwards?

So I dropped it all down onto the seat, watching the packages fall with light interest before sitting myself down, smiling at Tom's obvious curiosity in whatever I was doing.

"Help yourself, I've got way too much for myself; I packed a load on the off chance I made a friend."

"We're not friends," Tom grumbled, but never the less he reached over for a chocolate frog, and seemed surprised that I'd allowed him to retrieve his arm with the chocolate in tacked. Laughing humourlessly, I snatched up a pack of jelly beans for myself, still smiling.

"Yeah, for now." It without a doubt sounded as threatening as I'd intended, because Tom's head snapped up to look at me from his book, eyes narrowed and the handful of chocolate halfway to his mouth had come to a complete stop.

"What?"

"I've decided I want you for a friend, so in the end, me and you are gonna be friends. I don't see what your problem is. I'm exceedingly cool, you're not half bad yourself," I paused, sticking my tongue out with a teasing smile so that he'd get I was joking before returning to my little speech, "so really it'd be easier for you if you just accepted it." Curling up on the seat and leaning against the wall, I smiled over at Tom before flicking to the next page in my book.

"What are you reading?" At last, he was finally attempting conversation.

"It's about invisibility and the different ways and theories to go about it. They didn't have the book in English though; it's by some mad Norwegian wizard of the eighteen hundreds."

"Have you tried using a translation spell yet? I mean, if there are any of those?"  
Blinking, I looked up at Tom with my head cocked to a side. He had an excellent point, that was true, but wouldn't that spell have already been used if it was that easy?

"I'm not sure... I'll look into it."

He was silent for a moment before returning to his own book which, judging by the speed he was going through the pages, wasn't his first time reading it.

.

That was how most of our time on the Hogwarts express past, with the two of us sat reading. Every so often I'd explain a particularly interesting theory on invisibility and Tom would try to muddle through it with me; our obvious lack of previous study didn't stop us too much.  
It was an almost pleasant way to spend our time, so I didn't look too much into Tom not really starting conversation all that much. I figured it was just because he hadn't talked to someone in a long time, or rather, talked to someone he didn't have a desperate need to speak to.

It was only when we were getting off the train that I realized there was a very real possibility that I could lose Tom in the crowd, so despite my annoyance at having to do so, I snatched up his hand once we were on the platform and dragged him towards the front, making good use of my elbows to shove people out of the way.  
The professor currently conducting us stood tall above our little first year heads, raising a brow as my hat covered form appeared dragging along the rather well put together form of Tom Riddle. He blinked once, long and slow before appearing to think better of questioning us.

"Four to a boat, no more please."

The boats were tiny things in comparison to the train we'd arrived on, and felt unnervingly unsteady when I clambered in. Tom was stood on the docks, looking at the raft with an obvious air of distance before he finally lowered himself onto one of the seats.

We ended up sharing with two annoyingly vocal boys, one of whom fell in the lake. I was almost sure Tom'd had something to do with it -the boy had been getting uncomfortable close to him- but I hadn't seen any wand nor any movement from Tom to suggest he was guilty.  
He was good, I'd admit to that.

And he played it off as the concerned fellow student, helping the dripping wet boy into the boat; almost physically pulling him in that was. I was impressed.

.

We were met outside the grand doors to the Great Hall by Professor Dumbledore who was stood waiting for us. I froze up in my steps only ever so lightly, but just enough for both him and Tom to notice. I pulled at the brim of my hat, bringing it down over my eyes and looking everywhere but at the mind-reading professor stood before us. I was incredibly nervous, because there was still a chance he'd just kick me out rather than listen to me.

Something I was fully expecting in all honesty. Though it was true Dumbledore seemed unusually kind -he had offered his attempted murderer Malfoy protection- I had no idea how he'd react to anything relating to Grindelwald. And a child of Grindelwald? Yeah, this probably wasn't going to go down well.

"I hope I get Slytherin," Tom finally murmured beside me and I looked up at him in confusion before realizing what he'd said.

"I'm sure you will; it's for the ambitious after all."

And then we were led inside, Dumbledore reeling off the names as he went down the list and the crowd around us seemed to slowly trickle away. Eventually Tom's name got called out, and I could tell from his suspicious look before he sat down for his sorting that he'd been waiting for my name to be called out. Seeing as we'd already passed both of my last names already, I figured I was still down from Durmstrang, something which my father was without a doubt sorting out right now. He did have that school terrorized after all.

As a Yaxley child was sorted into Slytherin, I shuffled nervously from foot to foot as Dumbledore snapped the name scroll shut before his questioning blue eyes found my own, obvious very confused.

"I'm sorry Miss, have I missed your name?"  
I shook my head, very much aware of all the eyes that were currently focused upon my nervous form and I played with the brim of my hat, attempting to figure out just how to say this.

"Erm, no. I think you'd have noticed my name... My, ah, dad decided I was going to come here last minute instead of Durmstrang..." Trailing off, I looked out over the crowd and found Tom's curious face, sat away from the rest of the Slytherins who kept sending the half-blood suspicious looks, as if he was a spy in their camp. Ha, they'd be in for a shock.

"And your name then?"  
I pulled off my hat and looked up at Dumbledore, wincing at the sharp intake of his breath along with several other staff members that no doubt saw the resemblance.

"Erm, that'd be Clara Grindelwald."

.

Silence. Dead silence.

Dumbledore just blinked in one slow motion and I met his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't see the other me that'd been living before I landed in this world. I tried pushing the memory of being hauled into Grindelwald land at him and how I really don't want to be fighting on my father's side of the war, even if he was my father.

Dippet had now stood up and come around the table, looking to Hogwarts' residential expert on Grindelwald. Dumbledore himself was expressionless, eyes still locked on mine before slowly he nodded his head, gesturing to the seat.

"If you would Miss Grindelwald." Everyone in a six foot radius cringed, including myself as I sat down.

"Just Clara please... No need to give everyone a heart attack."  
Dumbledore smiled slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes and I felt horrible. The brim of the hat covered up the shocked and horrified faces, even the confused expression of the muggle-borns. Tom too looked hopelessly lost, but didn't seem to want to ask any of the scared people around him for answers.

"_Oh, now isn't this interesting. Daughter of a dark wizard. But then, you're not are you? Don't worry child, I won't mention it to anyone. But where to put you? It's not going to be Hufflepuff, and I don't think you're the kind of competitive learner that'd fit into Rowena's group. Brave, very brave especially to go against such an influential father. But I think it's not quite Godric's idea of brave. Certainly cunning in there, and you're resourceful that's for sure. Daring like Godric, but you think things through first... Humm, tricky, tricky. I think you could use the support of a tightly knit group, some fraternity would be good, so it'll be SLYTHERIN!_"

.

Wincing slightly, because yeah that was totally gonna make everyone even more suspicious, I ducked my head as Dumbledore lifted the hat from my head, once again met with silence. Only a few muggle-borns had started clapping, and quickly stopped when they realized something was wrong. Well, all but one.

Tom was clapping still, a quiet sound that echoed through the entire room. Dumbledore joined in after a second, and that seemed to jump-start the Slytherins who offer two seconds of quick clapping as I made my way over and sat down.

The entire table but one seemed to have moved up as a collective group, leaving just me and Tom at the bottom with about five foot of bench between us and the nearest person, the latter of whom seemed quite faint at being in that position.

Dippet offered a few words, still nervously eyeing my form before he summoned the food and turned to begin a hasty discussion with Dumbledore, whom had nodded at me slightly. As if a promise to talk later. It almost seemed like an acceptance of my presence, so it was good enough for me.

I settled back and began helping myself to the turkey, feeling Tom's gaze on me.

.

"Aren't you going to explain?" It took a whole minute before he finally spoke, no doubt unable to handle the fact he had no idea why everyone was acting like they were walking on paper thin ice around me.

"Erm, have you not read the, I mean, our worlds newspapers?"  
Tom shook his head and I sighed because of course he wouldn't have read them, he wouldn't have been able to access them yet. So instead I turned to the rest of the Slytherins offering my best smile. One of my fellow first years whimpered.

"Does anyone have a newspaper?" Instantly three were thrown at me from somewhere down the table and I plucked one up, leaving the other two floating in the gravy boat.

"Thanks," my gratitude was bellowed back, but I didn't think I'd get much of a response so I didn't bother, instead pointing to the front page where a blurry photo of Grindelwald himself was shown. They were still talking about the attack on Zauberloch, which was kind of like the Hogsmeade of Germany.

"Look familiar?"

You could see the pieces coming together in Tom's mind, his dark grey eyes finding mine and a brow lifting.

"You're the daughter of this dark lord?"  
I nodded, waiting for his reaction that was obviously going to be different to everyone else's.

"But you're nothing like the rest of them," he gestured back to every other Slytherin who all seemed rather interested in eavesdropping on our conversation.

"That's because I'm a cool kid. Just stick with me Tom. I told you we'd be friends right? It's not like I'm gonna go running to daddy when I have problems. It's my life and just because I'm 50% Grindelwald doesn't mean I'm not 100% me. Now, about those translation spells..."

.

Tom and I talked all the way through dinner, and it was nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of; Tom was scarily smart. Not that I wasn't already expecting that. Still terrifying listening to him make five jumps in logic in a single sentence, and I was left scrambling to keep up with that one. It was when we were dismissed after Dippet's speech -whom also seemed rather distracted- that a form loomed over me and I looked up and offered a charming smile.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Miss Clara, I'd very much appreciate it if we could have a word?" It wasn't a question and I knew it. But I didn't mind.  
So I shot to my feet, brushing down my robes to make sure there weren't any crumbs on them before turning to Tom.

"I'll see you tomorrow Tom."  
My friend nodded slightly, looking wearily at Dumbledore before he turned and headed out of the room with the rest of the Slytherins who flocked instantly to him for information.

"So," I murmured, looking up at the whole staff table that'd remained behind.

"I think now would be a good time to start talking Miss Clara."

"Right."

* * *

**Haha, yeah. I'm writing quickly I know, because this chapter was actually finished yesterday? Anyway, I waiting till today to put it up because.  
I'm glad some people like Clara, I'm so scared I'm going accidental dunk her in Sue sauce sometimes so it's nice to know she's coming off as an okay character. Well, at least before this chapter. Is she still okay?**

**Thanks for reading,**

**Tsume  
xxx**


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